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Chapter Nineteen

Elias

I stood outside the cold visiting room, my heart pounding against my ribs like it wanted to escape. The walls of the jail felt like they were closing in on me, and the flickering fluorescent lights above did nothing to ease the knot in my stomach.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Ronan since watching him being hauled away for his stupid mouth—his face twisted in rage, fists flying at Jack, insulting the police officers and denying me when I tried to get him free.

The guards were sharp and efficient as they led me into the room, a glass divider separating me from the man I had to see. My pulse quickened when I saw him sitting there. Ronan was slouched in the metal chair, his eyes downcast, the familiar defiance gone. The last time I saw him, he was burning with anger, a fire I couldn’t quench.

But now?

Now, he just looked…empty.

The sound of my footsteps seemed too loud as I approached, my throat tightening when I finally met his gaze. His expression was unreadable, tired, lost, maybe even regretful, but there was a flicker of something beneath it. I didn’t know what that something was, but I could tell he wasn’t in the same place as the last time I saw him.

He didn’t speak, didn’t even offer a greeting. He just looked at me like I was some kind of stranger who had no business being there. Maybe he was right, and I should turn away.

But I couldn’t.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, he was a pain I couldn’t escape. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his posture was stiff like he was holding everything inside, trying to keep the world from seeing what it was doing to him. I knew he didn’t belong here. He wasn’t a criminal. He wasn’t like Jack.

I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Ronan…” I couldn’t even get his name past the lump in my throat. It felt wrong—like my words didn’t belong here, not in this place. Not with him like this.

His eyes flicked to mine, cold but still there.

“What are you doing here?” his voice was flat, detached like he was speaking to someone who didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.

“I’m here because I—” I stopped, the words not coming out as I had wanted them to.

This was the part where I was supposed to comfort him and say something that would make all of this make sense.

But it didn’t.

Nothing made sense.

Jack was free. His thousands of corrupt buddies let him walk out the doors before he was even behind bars.

I couldn’t tell Ronan.

I had to, but I couldn’t at the same time. He was being blamed for the whole thing. Jack had spun a web of lies and deceit to control this narrative, depicting Ronan as an angered son who had a streak of violence toward his mother, who refused to stay sober.

“I need to?—”

“Need to, what? Why are you here? Don’t tell me you care.” Ronan’s voice was sharp as he cut me off, laced with bitterness, and it cut through the silence like a knife, embedding deep into my heart.

“You don’t have to pretend like you give a shit, Elias. I don’t regret beating the shit out of him. I am glad he’s rotting in here with me. And you should be happy. Now, you can rid yourself of me for good.”

I flinched at his words.

It was so clear that he was used to pushing people away and shutting himself off when things got hard. But I couldn’t just walk away—not now.

Not after everything.

He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me sticking my nose into the situation. If I hadn’t pissed off Jack worse than he was, he would have staggered back to his hole, and Ronan wouldn’t have gone into the blind rage that landed him here.

This was my fault.

It was my fault that Ronan was being blamed for the condition that his mother was in. It was my fault he wasn’t safe in his club in Vegas.

“Ronan,” I said, my voice firmer this time, though I was careful not to raise it.

I wasn’t here to fight with him. I wasn’t here to tell him what he should or shouldn’t feel. “Of course, I care. I’m here because I care. You don’t have to do this alone…”

He scoffed, his eyes flicking away from mine as if the truth was too much to face.

“Alone?” he muttered, almost to himself. “Alone’s all I’ve ever been. You think it’s different now? You think you can fix this? Why don’t you do what you do best, Father, and run away? I don’t need you. I never did.”

I wanted to tell him I wasn’t running and would never stop trying. But I knew it wouldn’t work. Not now, not when the walls he built around himself were so high. Higher than mine had ever been. He didn’t believe it, and I wasn’t sure I had the words, either.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and thick. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fists clenched every now and then like he was still trying to fight.

But this fight?

This was different.

This wasn’t a fight I could help him win with just a few words or comforting gestures.

“Jack,” I finally said, my voice softer now, knowing I owed him the truth at least. No one else would tell him. “He’s free, Ronan. They let him out. You are in here for nothing. Was it worth it?”

At the mention of his stepfather’s name, Ronan’s jaw clenched so tight I thought he might break something. His eyes darkened, and I could see the fury simmering just beneath the surface. But the longer he stared at me, the more that anger seemed to fade, replaced by something else I couldn’t quite read.

“Yes,” Ronan said, his voice low, almost like a confession. “He deserves more. He’s hurt her for years, and I can’t let him keep getting away with it. I couldn’t stand there and do nothing. Not after everything he’s done. Not after what he’s done to her. Not after he fucking threatened you in your place of worship.”

His voice cracked at the end, and for the first time, I saw the pain behind the anger. He was trying so hard to hide it and bury it under all this rage, but it was leaking through every word.

“I know,” I whispered, leaning in just slightly, though I knew the glass would keep me from closing the distance completely. “I know what he’s done to you both now…I should have known. There were so many signs, and I was ignorant. We all were. Everyone failed you. I am so sorry you dealt with that alone. I won’t forgive myself. I know you are hurting. But just remember you’re not him, Ronan. You’re not him, and you don’t have to be. I will get you out of this mess I got you in.”

Ronan met my gaze again, his eyes full of conflict, of pain, and maybe a little bit of that same defiance. His walls were still up, but I could see the cracks now.

“Don’t let him win,” I added, my voice gentle but steady. “Don’t let him turn you into someone you’re not. Don’t lose that person that I…that I love.”

He was quiet for a long time, his eyes staring at the table between us like he could find some kind of answer there.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” he murmured, his words fragile, like they were coming from a place too raw to hold inside his head. “But I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know how to…I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know how to fix it. He has so many fucking friends that are evil as he is. This is the world we live in. The innocent are crucified for the sins of others, remember?”

My heart broke for him at that moment. He wasn’t the monster Jack wanted him to be, but I could see the toll it had taken on him.

“You don’t have to be a martyr, Ronan,” I said, my voice firm yet gentle. “You just have to let people help you. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you.”

He didn’t answer.

He just sat there, lost in thought, his eyes cast downward again.

I knew he wasn’t ready to believe me, not yet. Not after the number of times I ran from him. But maybe, just maybe, the words I’d said would find a place in him eventually.

The guard came to the door, signaling that our time was up. I stood, my legs feeling heavier than they ever had before sitting down. Ronan didn’t move or say anything as I made my way toward the exit. But just as I was about to leave, I looked back over my shoulder, catching his eyes one last time.

“I’ll see you again,” I said, not as a question but as a promise.

And for the first time that day, his gaze softened just a little, like he was starting to believe it.

“I know,” he said quietly, and the words hung in the air, fragile but the only tangible thing in our grasp.

* * *

Back at the hospital, I sat with Miranda. After visiting hours had passed at the penitentiary, I didn’t feel right just to go back to my Parish.

The steady beeps of her machines were a comfort as I read my scriptures and did the tasks that ‘the robe’ needed. Despite the chaos around me, the collar’s demands did not lessen. If anything, they felt more constrictive.

Miranda lay peacefully in bed as the testaments filtered through into her dreamless mind. Blessings were a common job of a priest, and in these walls, I felt obligated to give any and all that I was able to provide.

Whether it was a sick child struggling with the effects of chemo or a criminal covered in swastikas, God demanded we give everyone the blessings of His name.

One of the hardest things of the gospel to understand was how our divine leader could give absolution and forgiveness to those who strayed so far from the path of righteousness but cull one who made a mistake when following in his path from the beginning.

Was I the child, innocent of the sins around me?

Or was I the criminal fighting to rectify past sins yet unable to erase them?

“Father Cross? Sorry to intrude,” a nurse said from the doorway. “But would you please bless a man that does not have much longer on earth?”

My chest tightened, and I gave her a tight smile. “Of course. Lead the way.”

I tried to forget the memories of Ronan dripping blood on these glossy floors just nights before, and I tried to forget the sinking guilt and fear I felt as those police officers dragged him to the squad car. But despite my task and my good intentions, I couldn’t quite catch my breath when repeating the steps I had taken those nights prior.

The room of the man was quiet. There was soft sobbing from those who stood near his still body—a subtle hiss from the respirator that breathed life into the vessel before me. The nurse waited, giving me a path by his head while she took place at the machines.

His loved ones didn’t look at me. They kept their heads down, tears rolling off their cheeks in the dim light.

I swallowed and lifted my rosary beads from my neck, taking them off my head and circling them around the patient in the bed. His ashen face looked long gone despite the monitors.

There was no soft energy flowing from his body.

God had been ready to take this man back home to Him for a while, but his living needed him just a little longer. This was a young man, only around my age. It was sad but easy to see that his body had been ravaged by the poison he’d placed into his veins. It was a painful mirror of Miranda, but unlike her, this human had given up his soul, unable to hang onto the tether for his corporeal form.

“May you find peace in this moment,

as the world softly fades away.

May the love you’ve given return to you,

filling your heart, lighting your way.”

I began, letting my words fill the room.

“May the pain you carry be released,

as you are held in gentle grace.

May your spirit find solace and rest,

in the eternal embrace.”

His family members lifted their heads, a softness entering their tear-filled eyes as they continued to listen to the blessing.

“May the light of those who’ve gone before,

guide your journey through the dark,

and may your soul be free of fear,

as you follow the path to the spark.”

The nurse silently flipped the monitor off, and the man before me inhaled a deep final breath before his chest became still. I continued the prayer, freeing the soul from the battered body and those around him.

They were stagnant in their grief, knowing he was gone but unable to let go. Hopefully, this could give them the peace they needed. The key was to unburden their hearts with what they couldn’t control.

“May your transition be tender and calm,

and may you know you are not alone.

In the arms of love, in the arms of peace,

may you find your way home.”

I pray that one day, we will all find our own peace. Our own home. Despite the pain, we must endure to make it there.